


do you have some time for me

by futureboy



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futureboy/pseuds/futureboy
Summary: Gavin's got a set of rules to help him survive gang life, and they've kept him safe for years - until Matt Bragg shows up.





	do you have some time for me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rothecooldad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rothecooldad/gifts).



> [RPF disclaimer: Written according to guidelines set by RT employees (to the best of my knowledge). This is a fictional series of events using characters inspired by real people.]
> 
> Written for the wonderful, incredible, amazing [@rothecooldad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rothecooldad) for our friendiversary! VIVE LES BABBLE BUDDIES ♥

 

_Taking a shine to newcomers is how you get bit in the ass._

 

Gavin’s seen Reservoir Dogs. He’s not planning on getting bit in the arse anytime soon.

On the other hand… The new guy is _bloody_ fit.

“So is Matt your real name?”

“Hm?”

“Matt,” he elaborates, “AxialMatt, I figured either it was your real name or a really boring code one. Just... wanted to know which one.”

They’re currently on the roof of the Fakes’ main penthouse - Gavin point blank refuses to dangle his legs over the edge, like _some_ people (idiot mental _Ryan_ ) do, but he is perched on top of a flippin’ fidgety generator, and rickety vibrations are being sent all the way up his arms in ticklish waves. AxialMatt is tinkering with an old satellite dish. He shoots Gavin a scowl.

“It’s my real name,” he says flatly. “I guess it is pretty boring.”

“I like it,” Gavin shrugs. “Don’t coppers suss who you are, though?”

“Haven’t so far. I think it’s a bit too logical for the LSPD, _Golden Boy_.”

He scrunches up his face. “Oh, come on. You know my name.”

Matt accidentally stabs himself with his screwdriver: “you don’t seem too big on introductions, do you?” he asks, with his finger in his mouth.

So Gavin hops down from the generator, and extends a hand to the new guy’s good one. “Nice to meet you, Matt,” he smirks. “That good enough?”

“Yeah,” says Matt. He shakes out the pain in his left, and raises his right to actually shake into a new friendship. “Nice to meet you, Gavin Free.”

 

* * *

 

_If you’ve got a problem, make it known._

 

Matt’s first shootout goes fairly well, all things considered. It had been unexpected, but a startled lashing-out of long arms and an extremely well-aimed high kick meant he hadn’t even needed to draw his pistol until the cop was on the ground, and by the time, he’d taken out all the security doors in the ballroom they were robbing, too.

The second goes well, too. And the third. Eventually, Geoff decides that Matt’s allowed access to the Fakes’ armoury room, despite the fact that Matt’s the one who’s in charge of the keycodes and could probably have gotten in whenever he wanted to anyway.

He couldn't have known. It’s only his fourth shootout, for Christ’s sake, and it’s the first _planned_ shootout he’s ever been a part of.

But Gavin still feels a territorial twinge every time he glances over.

“Hey!” Michael screeches, “what the fuck is the matter with you today?! Eyes on the prize, fuckhead--”

Matt, bless him, doesn’t bat an eyelid. He’s too focused on his aim, squinting into the distance to take out the police officers in cover behind the cruiser, his little silver handgun glinting in the sunlight.

It’s Gavin’s gun.

He knows it’s his - the mother of pearl inlay, the grazes down the sides where he skidded off his motorbike that one time - and there’s something in him chanting _mine, mine, mine_ , every damn time he fails not to glance over.

He feeds more ammo into his own weapon and forces himself back into their current predicament. Turning on their attackers, he fixes them with an unwavering, steely stare - there was no need to complicate things by bringing it up, now, was there?

 

* * *

 

_Never let anyone else have power over you._

 

“You can make this easy for yourself, and tell us where the pieces are,” Gavin says, “or you can choose the idiot path, for _idiots_ , and make it really, really hard for yourself. It’s up to you.”

Jeremy smirks.

“I don’t know where they were shipped, I _swear_!” says the man on his knees in front of him - usually a thrilling sight, in Gav’s eyes, but this random bloke with tears and other sad wet stuff streaming down his face is not a thrill whatsoever.

“Is that so,” Gavin says. It’s a statement. Not a question.

He’s about to reach into the inside pocket of his fancy jacket, ready to pull the comforting weight of the butterfly knife, resting against the breast of his shirt, into the night.

And then a noise blares out from the vicinity of his right bumcheek.

 

**_“NEUNUNDNEUNZIG LUFTBALLONS! AUF IHREM WEG ZUM HORIZONT--”_ **

 

“The fuck is that?” Jeremy says sharply. Even the man they’re interrogating stops sniffling abruptly, his face a greasy mark of shock.

Gavin tries not to wince. “‘Scuse me,” he says, his face a perfect display of professionalism, and turns away to answer his phone.

_“Hey, Gavin.”_

“Heya, boi,” he says, “make it quick, I’m in the middle of a gig at the mo.”

_“That Geoff’s thing? The book job?”_

“Mm-hmm.”

_“How’s that going?”_

He looks over his shoulder - Jeremy’s pinching the bridge of his nose, like he has a particularly nasty migraine coming on. “It’s going,” he says casually.

_“Sweet. Anyways, I was just wondering - what did you change the password to for the ://H drive? I need the updated city hall blueprints.”_

“It’s your birthday, you sausage. All numerical, no dashes or spaces.”

_“Awesome. Hey, good luck with your torture-whatever! Don’t make a mess--”_

“Please,” Gavin says, “I’m a _professional_.”

Matt laughs and hangs up on him. When Gavin slips his phone into his back pocket again, he turns to see Jeremy squinting at the cell floor, and his prisoner cowering like he’s praying to every god he can think of.

“Gavin,” says Jeremy, very, very slowly.

“It wasn’t me,” Gavin says hastily, “I didn’t change it, Matt changed it.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,” is the all-too serious reply, so Gavin whips out his knife with a flourish and lets the screams of horror drown out his embarrassment.

 

* * *

 

_Don’t get caught._

 

“We know you have associates, and we know one of them’s been poking around in floor plans they shouldn’t have had access to. A name might get you a little leeway with a judge - _capiche_?”

Gavin looks up through his eyelashes at the officer opposite him. He’s a burly bloke with both hands braced on the questioning table, as though he might flip it at any moment.

Gav’s already got a black eye.

A matching set would be far more aesthetically pleasing.

“Don’t have any names,” he grins, feeling the cut in his lip split open again. “Just mine. I’m not letting some knob with a fetish for _The Matrix_ get the credit for my hard work.”

One of the cop’s lower eyelids twitches.

“By the way,” Gavin adds, “the rooftop garden on that new restaurant downtown looks _bloody_ awful. Did you really spend money on having that designed? My goddaughter could chunder a better blueprint than that.”

 

* * *

 

_If you do get caught, never give up the truth._

 

“Gavin?”

“What?” he says, scowling into a pack of frozen peas. Literally, because his face is smooshed into it. Something in the freezer smells flipping _rotten_ and it’s clinging to the plastic wrapping, so he keeps having to hold his breath and lean away to gag occasionally.

Matt’s gaze flickers awkwardly around the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“‘Course you can. ‘S the bloody living room, innit? Not just mine.”

Matt edges into the room as though there are several large obstacles in his way, and finally settles on the other end of the sofa, a cushion and a chasm between them.

Gavin flips the peas. The warmth from his face has defrosted most of the side with the ingredients printed on.

“Why’d you do it?” Matt asks.

It’s exactly how Gavin had hoped he _wouldn’t_ ask it. “Do what?” he says, feigning ignorance, “get caught? Wasn’t exactly planned, love.”

Matt’s glare is fleeting and soft - he’s not actually mad, Gavin realises. “No,” he says, patiently, “I meant, uh, why did you go in my place? Kinda? I mean, this was all my fault.”

“No it wasn’t,” he says instantly.

“Gav, I didn’t set up the proxy server properly. They tracked me down in _days_. That’s a fucking rookie mistake, dude.”

“...Doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t _matter?!_ ” says Matt, shifting closer and prying away the rapidly-thawing bag of peas. “Look at your _face_ , Gavin, of course it matters!”

“Aw,” he grins, “that sounded like a compliment.”

“Shut up,” Matt says, flushing quite a deep pink colour. “Look, all I mean is, you shouldn’t have had to do that for me. I’m grateful you did, but if there’s any way I can pay you back, let me know. You saved me back there. From the cops, from the crew, from _everything_.”

“You could pay me back by getting rid of this swelling,” Gav suggests thickly.

He adjusts the bag again, providing a rustling soundtrack to Matt’s narrowing eyes. “What,” he says, “you want me to kiss it better and that’ll fix your fucking fracture? I’m not that good.”

Gavin snorts.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, and lets the peas drop into his lap. “I just… Erm…”

And now Matt looks even more lost.

“Couldn’t hurt to _try_ ,” Gavin finishes, “I s’pose.”

Matt’s expression smooths over almost instantly. He’s still got a dusting of redness across his face from earlier, and when he tilts Gavin’s jaw up like the Golden Boy could break, his hands are startlingly cool.

“Hey,” he murmurs, tucking a loose strand of blue hair behind his ear. “I’m _so_ fucking sorry about the cops.”

“All is forgiven,” Gavin replies graciously, and leans in, and they kiss warmly, and _keep_ kissing, and to be honest Gavin had never really liked following the rules that much anyway, so it’s only fair to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, _whoever_ he wants.

“I can’t believe you told the LSPD I had a fetish for _The Matrix_ ,” Matt says after a few moments, drawing back and pouting.

Gavin barely hears him. “I bled on you,” he says, swiping at the corner of Matt’s mouth, “sorry.”

“I'll just have to keep that pistol as an apology.”

“I bloody _knew_ you knew it was mine, you jammy git, Matthew--”

Matt laughs in his face, and kisses him again.

Gavin decides that he can keep the pistol.


End file.
